Free The Ghost of Christmas Past by Sally Quilford Page A

looking from Elizabeth to
Hardacre, with a darkness in his eyes that Elizabeth could not fathom. “Doctor
Wheston is attending him. I have just returned to see how Samuel is. But
clearly he must be well, as I am sure Mr. Hardacre would not think of making
love to you with a sick child in the same room. Good day.” Liam turned and
stormed out of the house.
    Hardacre
left soon after, bowing to the reverend and saying to Elizabeth, 'Please think
about my offer.”
    “Are
you going to?” asked the Reverend, when he and Elizabeth sat down to afternoon
tea. They took it in the parlour, so they could watch Samuel as he slept.
Elizabeth kept some toast warm, in case her brother should awaken and feel
hungry.
    “I
have no wish to marry Mr. Hardacre, Father. Tell me about Johnny Fletcher.”
    Her
father looked at her for a long time, then clearly decided not to press the
matter. “He was under the ice for some time. In fact, we had only just found
him when Doctor Doubleday returned. We were sure we would have to give up poor
Johnny for dead, but Doubleday argued otherwise. He said he had heard of people
being revived some time after drowning in icy water. Something about the cold
slowing down the bodily functions. Despite Wheston believing young Johnny had
no chance, Doubleday insisted on trying to revive him. And it worked. Poor
Johnny may lose a couple of toes to frost bite, and it may take him some time
to recover his faculties, but he is alive. Thank the Good Lord.” The Reverend
made a praying gesture.
    “So …
so Doctor Doubleday could not have wanted Johnny and Samuel dead, could he,
Father?”
    “Whatever
makes you say that, Lizzie?”
    “Mr.
Hardacre pointed out that Doctor Doubleday has a knack of being in the wrong
place at the wrong time. He was there when I found Mr. Sanderson, and there
when Sam and Johnny fell through the ice.”
    “I
find it hard to believe that a man who strove so hard to save that boy's life
would have been the cause of Sam and Johnny's distress.”
    “That's
what I would like to think,” said Elizabeth. “Father?”
    “Hmm.”
The Reverend had just bitten into a slice of hot buttery toast. The butter
dripped onto the plate, and he scooped it up in the bread. In the cosy room,
with the firelight spreading warmth, it was hard for Elizabeth to believe there
were dangers in the world. Yet Sam, lying on the sofa, covered in blankets
reminded her that their comfortable lives had been invaded by such horrors.
    “Why
do people think that Arthur Sanderson embezzled from his associate then
murdered him?”
    “From
what Constable Hounds told me, they found proof in Sanderson’s study of him
having practised his associate’s signature. They never did find out what
happened to the money. As Sanderson was mentally unfit, he could not be brought
to trial.”
    “Father,
there was a case in the papers five years ago. It was very similar. A man was
hanged for murdering his associate, after embezzling money which was never
found. The condemned man’s wife disappeared too, only to return after his death
and claim his estate. Don’t you think that’s strange?”
    “Yes,
it is rather.”
    “I
wish I could find out more about Lucinda Hargreaves.”
    “I
imagine the sisters will be your first point of call for all things murderous.
They know about every murder trial going.”
    “Will
you be alright to care for Samuel if I call on them after tea?”
    “Lizzie
… I want you to be careful, dearest. I'm not entirely sure that Sam and
Johnny's forays into detecting haven't led to today's worries. I should never
have let him go.” The Reverend looked across at his son, his face a mask of
guilt. “I thought it was harmless enough. Who would think children would be
hurt?”
    “Johnny
said he'd seen something,” said Elizabeth. “But we all thought it was to make
himself look important. I wonder now...”
    “Exactly.”
    Despite
her father's warning, Elizabeth wrapped up warm and set out on her